


Pretty Down to Your Bones

by myadamantiumheart



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Model AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myadamantiumheart/pseuds/myadamantiumheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne Modeling Agency and Design doesn't just hire any models- Bruce Wayne, elite designer, has a very specific core of models picked from his former wards and the previously undiscovered talent he's found on the streets of Gotham in a few special men and women. They're handsome, beautiful, classy- and rather less dignified off camera than on. (Short fics from a Model!AU where the Batfamily are models/designers. Chapters to be added as drabbles/short fics are written.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Newcomer

He walks in with a sway in his thin, stately hips, an imperious gaze and eyes that say “ _I know I’m hot shit._ ” Dark skin, bright blue eyes, jet hair, and a tall, thin, leanly muscled frame that makes nearly everyone in the agency want to forget the age of consent is 17 in New York. The other models have met him before- he’s visited, briefly, and of course they all know his mother, the famous Talia Al Ghul, whose modeling reputation still rivals Heidi Klum and Tyra Banks despite her seventeen years of inactivity. This particular sixteen year old is Damian Wayne, son of the agency’s one and only designer, Bruce Wayne.

The photographers mutter like aspens in the wind, crackling little comments, and Dick doesn’t bother replacing his shirt after his photo shoot ends, instead coming right over to hug the younger man (Bruce is legally family to almost all of the models here, after all, and if any of them are going to use that bond as an excuse to hug Damian, it’s going to be Dick.)

“You’re here for your first shoot, then?” Dick says, bright smile burning the shadows that Damian’s (perfect, devastatingly attractive) scowl cast across him. “Stephie isn’t here today, something with her mom, so you’re filling in with Jason, I think, Bruce left a suit for you to wear-”

\--

Todd’s smirk is something that would make a lesser man nervous (or aroused, really, let’s be honest), but Damian is not, it seems, fazed. His suit is sharp, as sharp as anything can be, the edge of a knife across a perfect body, and it seems Bruce has done it again.

He’s polished to a fine sheen- the photographers are practically salivating over the chance to get him up on the shoot. A cherry red motorcycle rests on the podium, the backdrops painstakingly arranged and Jason sitting on the edge of the podium, grinning up at the Wayne Agency handler, Cassandra Cain. Leather jacket, v-neck teeshirt, perfectly stained and ripped jeans that show off the v of his hips where the shirt is riding up, combat boots and unfairly attractive hair, the white streak gleaming under the lights.

“Oh _no_ ,” Jason says, leaning back to look at Damian and crooking an eyebrow. “Tsk, _tsk_ , Cassie, I can’t believe you let them do this. The little prince looks sharp as a tack, sure, but who’s gonna believe that I just let that pretty little bird go without ruffling a few feathers? You made him _too_ perfect.” Damian snorted, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve and cocking his hip.

“Feeling threatened, Todd?” He straightened his suit and stepped onto the podium, ignoring the photographer’s small noise of appreciation and running his hand along the edge of the shining motorcycle’s glossy red surface. Jason’s laugh resounded through the small photoshoot room, his boots clomping as he stood up and stalked towards Damian, curling his fingers in the lapel of the suit jacket and tugging him forcefully to face him. He straddled the bike, pulling Damian down a little bit and grinning.

“Come on, leg over, little prince.” Damian scowled at him before blanking his face out and slinging his leg up and over so that he straddled the bike, facing Jason but still standing, looking down into his smug blue eyes. Jay waved the photographer off, stalling him as he dragged his fingers across Damian’s shoulder and down to the shirt, gripping both sides of the collar and tugging, sudden movement and brute force, his smirk stretching wider at Damian’s stifled gasp and the sound of the top three buttons popping off and scattering across the podium, the severed threads obvious against the crimson silk.“I wouldn’t let a boy like you ‘cross my path without roughing you up a little, baby,” Jay breathed, his eyes dancing with a smug awareness of exactly what his raspy voice sounded like at that register. Damian raised a hand to shove him back, brow furrowing with fury at the destruction of his shirt, but Jason’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and pressed it back to the handlebars, keeping it pinned in plain view for the photographers. “Ah-ah-ah, little prince,” Jason ran his fingers roughly through Damian’s hair as he leaned forward, almost bending Damian backwards.

The teenager snarled, and Jason’s laugh rumbled through them as he brought his free hand down from Damian’s hair to grasp his tie and loosen it before tugging the other man forward enough to catch his lower lip between his teeth and tighten his fingers around Damian’s wrist at the sound of the camera shutter. His cheeks were flushing, regal cheekbones rouging, and Jason let go of the teen’s lip for just long enough to smirk even wider before he caught it again and bit down hard enough to draw a little bit of blood. He could hear the photographer’s excited hum, and the slight bulge against his thigh through the suit pants just made it all the more satisfying.

Little prince _indeed_.


	2. Pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rather surprising they never knew about Timothy's other, less publicized photo shoots before now. (Or, Tim Is Victoria's Secret)

It’s general knowledge that Dick is the resident prettyboy of the Wayne Modeling Agency and Design Studio, but that’s because until now no one has ever bothered to put Tim in something other than dignified, preppy clothing or evening wear.

It’s very clear, looking at him now, that Tim is rather more towards the pretty spectrum that Dick has ever been. Dick’s handsome, Jason’s rogueish, Damian’s stunning, Stephanie’s a blonde bombshell, Selina’s classy, Cass is a foreign beauty- but Tim? Tim is just rather simply _beautiful_.

“Is that mascara?” Dick asks, poking Tim’s cheek and leaning in close, the pink on Tim’s pale cheekbones intensifying as he blinks furiously at Dick and tries to back away only to bump into Jason. “I swear to god, Timmy, if they curled your eyelashes I’m gonna scream-”

“N-no, Dick, _stop_ \- those are, those are real and natural and all that,” Tim flushes deeply as Jason tugs on the one pearl stud in his left ear and struggles to escape the combined grip of the two older men. “ _Dick_ , you’re going to pull them _out_ -”

“God, really, though, could you please not be perfect at everything?” Jason said in a bored voice, poking his fingers through the holes in the tight black lace of the form fitting simple crew neck long sleeved lace shirt Tim has on. Tim’s lips pinch together, the dry rouge on them making them stand out darkly against his pale, smooth skin.

“I’ve got a shoot to get to-” he tries, to no avail- neither of them are paying him any mind. Dick has moved on to plucking at the lace in a failed attempt to pull it away from Tim’s skin, and Tim yelps and jerks when Dick’s finger pokes hard at his chest.

“You can see your _nipples_ through this, Timmy,” he says, scandalized. “I can’t believe Bruce would put you in something like this-”

“I am, actually, twenty,” Tim murmurs dryly, hands pushing ineffectively at Jason’s arms. “And I’ve also done modeling in way more revealing outfits, _so_ -”

“Like what, babe? A metal Princess Leia bikini?” Jason smirked, hands tightening on Tim’s waist. Tim’s flush deepened and he made a small squeaking sound- “ _Really_?”

“Not a _Leia_ bikini,” Tim muttered, crossing his arms across his chest in an attempt to get Dick to stop staring, scandalized, at his nipples. “Just for Bruce’s lingerie line.”

“Who _are_ you and _what_ have you done with Tim?” Jason’s disbelieving laugh rumbled through Tim’s back. “How have I never seen these pictures?”  
“How did I not know about this?” Dick says, horrified. “I can’t believe-”

“A _lot_ of things, apparently,” Tim huffs, finally managing to shove himself out from between the two of them. “Now I’ve got a shoot to get to, so I really must be off.” Jason watched his leather-clad ass go with a smirk on his face, Dick staring with an open mouth.

“So, are we staying late and hacking the database for those pictures?”

“How is that even a _question_ , Jason? How is that even a _question_.”


	3. Thigh-Highs and Their Effect on the Human Libido

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason, Steph, and Dick look through Tim's less-publicized portfolio.

In the end, they’d had to recruit Steph to help them into the database to find the pictures, but, as they sat there on the couch in Dick’s dressing room, robes (and only robes, in Dick’s case) on, lights off, computer lighting their faces with sickly blue, it turned out to be well worth the extra cohort.

“This is why everyone thinks Bruce is a pedo, isn’t it?” Stephanie murmured, clicking on the first picture and bringing it up fullscreen on the 46’’ on the coffee table in front of them.

“Oh, it _so_ is,” Jason muttered, sitting back with a heavy exhale and clenching his fist in the garishly colored afghan along the back of the couch. “Nice gams, princess.” The Tim on the screen stared up at them, blue eyes soft and lonely and longing beneath silky black bangs- his fingers were clasped on the edge of the garter clip, captured in the act of clipping the garter to the thigh high stocking that was slick along his leg like dully shining oil. Pale spine gracefully arched- mouth slightly opened- Dick huffed out a breath and shook his head.

“He must have only been just 18 when this was taken,” He said, tapping the date on the corner of the picture as Stephanie clicked through to another, Tim laid out on a pale blue bed with his thighs spread obscenely, sitting up on his elbows and staring out a window into a frosted, snowy forest. “Oh my _god_.”

“How did we not know he’s this pretty?” Stephanie whispered, eyes wide and tracing the line of Tim’s sheer black panties.

“Speak for yourself, Stephie, I’ve been jerkin’ off to the princess for at least three years now,” Jason laughed, slinging his arm down around her shoulders and slanting a smirk over at her. Dick glared over at Jason and Steph held a silent laugh in, her shoulders shaking as she went on to the next picture. “What, like you don’t want a piece of that ass? Please, Dickiebird. Don’t even try.” Dick huffed, glare intensifying as he tried to find a retort, eyes darting between Jason and the Tim that was sitting against the headboard in the photograph, knees together and up in front of his chest, one hand on the pillow and the other obscured from view by his knees but clearly pressing down on his groin, his lower lip caught in his teeth and his eyes hooded.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But nothing, Dick,” Jason laughed again, lower in his chest, as he leaned in, pectorals pressing against Stephanie’s shoulder through the silk of the robe and eyes narrowing at Dick. “You want to fuck Tim as bad as I do.”

“Definitely as bad as I do,” Steph volunteered, grinning at Dick before turning back to the screen.

“Admit it, Dickiebird, you wanna catch him in the locker room. Bend him over his vanity table and watch his face turn red as he tries to be quiet like he always is even while you’re fucking him so hard with your fingers that his sweet little cock is gettin’ shoved up against the cold-ass mirror with every thrust.” Jason’s smirk slid even darker, his hand pressing against Dick’s shoulder as Dick bit his lip and stifled a whimper at Jason’s words, his cheekbones dusted red and his fingers clenched angrily in the afghan. “You wanna walk in on him just like that.” He jerked his head to the picture on the screen before Steph clicked on the next one (Tim sitting on a kitchen counter in lacy cornflower blue, one knee up with a foot planted on the counter as he licked nutella off a knife.) Dick grunted, shoving at Jason’s hand and turning his head.

“I-”

“Just admit it, Dick,” Steph murmured, twisting and planting her elbow on her thigh where the robe had slipped open. “It’s not like your robe’s exactly hiding the heat you’re packin’ right now.” Jason’s smirk was nearly audible, his other arm reaching across Steph’s front to press against Dick’s obvious bulge, sprawling Steph across Dick’s lap and garnering a spray of giggles from the blonde. Dick whined, bucking up against Jason’s hand and slipping as he tried to regain his balance, the three of them one messy pile on the sofa. “God, Jason, you’re a sloppy fuck,” Steph laughed breathlessly, her fingers scrabbling at the satin of the robes until she managed to straddle Dick’s lap and let Jason press up behind her, the two of them pinning Dick’s legs down. 

“I haven’t even got to the sloppy fuck bit yet, Stephie,” he said, fingers tugging the strings of her robe and exposing her camisole and boxers. She rolled her hips against Dick, lifting her arms so that the two men could tug her camisole up until her breasts slipped free of its built in bandeau and she squealed, falling against Jason as he kept the tanktop tangled up across her face and pulled her arms back around his neck so that Dick could lean up and latch onto her nipple.

“God- fuck-” Jason pressed his lips to her ear, fingers of his free hand slipping into the waistband of her boxer shorts.

“Shhh,” he murmured, laughing at her disgruntled whine when Dick left one briefly to move to the other. “Just close your eyes, Stephie, c’mon. Think about Tim doin’ it- I know you wanna, want those pretty red lips around your tits, want those teeth on ‘em, markin’ ‘em-” Steph groaned, fingers clenching convulsively in Jason’s hair, and Dick moaned breathlessly against her collarbone.

“Jason- don’t-”

“I ain’t gonna pretend, Dickie,” he bit Steph’s neck, hips rocking her against Dick. “Not that I don’t wanna fuck you two either, but let’s get real here- we all want Tim spread out on the coffee table instead of just some pictures. Pictures ain’t gonna whine real pretty when we fuck their mouth, are they?” Steph’s thighs tightened around Dick’s waist and she arched, letting them tug her boxers off and relaxing her muscles just long enough for Dick to slide down the couch and nuzzle his nose at her belly button, lick down between her thighs.“Oh, that’s real pretty,” Jason murmured, palms pressing her inner thighs and keeping them spread so that Dick could slide his tongue across her clit, grab two handfuls of Jason’s bare ass and pull the two of them onto his mouth. “Think princess is good with his tongue?” Steph groaned, shoving at the tanktop long enough to get it off before she had to grasp Jason’ forearms to stay upright, his rough fingers and Dick’s slick tongue fucking into her fast and hard. 

“God- I- fuck, Jay, I don’t care-” she whined, stomach muscles twitching. “ _Dick_ is and I couldn’t care less about anyone e-else ri-ght now-” He hissed as Dick’s fingernails bit into the muscles of his thighs, dragging down, and Dick leaned back enough to pant out a quick-“Condoms in the pocket on the back of the orange throw pillow-” before Steph was crying out and Dick’s fingers were replacing Jason’s, crooking inside her and shoving against her tender spots. She shrieked when Jason returned, hands pulling her back at an angle and smirk pressing to the small of her back. He kissed the hollow wetly, and she could vaguely hear foil tearing before she was clutching at his hands and her thighs were pressing, trembling, stomach clenching and helpless wails careening out of her throat. 

“F-fuck,” she breathed, shaking and clasping Jason’s hands, sliding back onto his lap so that Dick could sit up, a dazed, happy look on his wet face.

“You probably shouldn’t have let me find out you’re a squirter,” Dick murmured, voice thick as he crawled forward and pressed the two of them down, the tables turning. Steph giggled, voice cracking halfway through when Jason spread her thighs across his and bent forward to kiss Dick hot and sloppy across her shoulder.

“That is really just not fair,” Jason rasped, thumb swiping Dick’s chin so he could suck the cum off of it. “I want a turn-” Dick grinned, running his hands up Steph’s hips, his teeth nipping at her lower lip before he kissed her too.

“I refuse to believe you can’t think of a way to share,” Steph said, fingers tangling in Dick’s hair as she tugged him back in for another kiss. “You’ve watched far too much porn for that, Jason.” Dick muffled his moan in her shoulder as Jason twined fingers with her and slid the condom down on Dick, other hand flicking the lube open and pouring it indiscriminately. Steph shuddered and laughed, hips jerking slightly and fingers untangling from Jason’s to slip between her own thighs and spread the cold pool of lubricant. “C’mon, golden boys, I want it hard and I want it _now_ ,” she dug her fingernails into Jason’s thigh and wrapped her calves around Dick’s waist. “Fuck me like you’re gonna fuck our darling Timothy.” **  
**


	4. Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie doesn't generally let people get away with anything- this is no exception, even if it is live television.

****  
  
“Did you have plastic surgery to remove stretch marks after your pregnancy, Ms. Brown?” the reporter asks, and from the hard look in the other models’ eyes, it’s clear the question has hit on topics that are not to be discussed. Stephanie cleared her throat, her blue eyes icy behind her sunglasses as she tipped her head forward and stared directly at the reporter.

  
“I didn’t,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Though I really fail to see how that’s relevant to our fall line. My pregnancy was over five years ago.”

  
“There have been rumors of you doing modeling for Mr. Wayne’s newest lingerie and brassiere line,” the reporter struggles to save face.

“Does it matter if I have stretch marks?” Stephanie cuts in, tapping her nails on the table.“They’re a normal part of pregnancy, and almost every woman who’s given birth has them. Are you insinuating I should have them removed?” She raised her eyebrow. “What kind of message does that send to all the ordinary women who will be wearing the lingerie and looking drop-dead-fucking gorgeous in it, stretch marks and all?” She grinned. “Sorry about the swearing, Bruce.”

Jason’s laugh is stifled behind his hand, and he clears his throat, nodding to Dick, who stands up and taps his microphone.

“Any _relevant_ questions, folks, or are we done here?”


	5. Repeat After Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a while for them to admit they're doing more than fucking, but eventually they do.

It takes a while for them to finally own up to it- to be honest, neither of them are used to relationships going well, and so when the seventh week they’ve been hooking up comes along and they haven’t killed each other, it’s quite a surprise. They’re lounging on Jason’s bed, sprawled out naked with a bag of cheetos between them and cans of sprite littering the floor beneath the mattress. Jason’s leg fell across Steph’s a while ago, a heavy, hot weight that shifts minutely before he pushes up on his elbow and looks over at her where she’s got her eyes partially open and is staring at the ceiling while the Squeeze CD spins in the CD player next to the bed.

“What are we doing?” He asks, abrupt as ever, his finger trailing across her bare stomach and down to where the corner of the sheet just barely obscures her pubic hair. She cracks an eye, raising her eyebrow before closing her eye again.

“Waiting for you to get it up again?” She grins, shifting a little bit when his finger traces the edge of her belly button in circles and slides down across a pink, faded stretch mark. He smirks a little, bending to kiss her shoulder and flatten his palm across her lower stomach, feeling her breath with every rise and fall of her diaphragm.

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,” His breath flows over her collarbone, stubble scratching pink places it’s already been and forehead pressing hot against her bicep for a second before he bends his head up to look at her again.

“We’re fucking, Jay,” Steph murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair and twisting the white strands gently. “Dirty, rough, makes-me-sore-all-weekend fucking.”

“What about when we’re watching Star Wars marathons or catching up on Doctor Who,” He whispers. “Or when you’re making me waffles, and I’m groping your ass, and you’re hitting me with the spatula?” Steph snorts, fingers tugging on his hair, and he gives in and kisses her neck like he’s been wanting to.

“What are you sayin’, huh?” She ducks her chin, pressing her lips to his temple. “Is this a math equation? You plus me plus fucking plus hanging out equals something?”

“It just, y’know,” he swallows heavily, groaning and pressing against her stomach harder. “Sometimes I think, y’know, we’re just so great together, and…”

“You wanna go steady with me, lover boy?” Steph grins, shoving at Jason’s head until he bends upwards and she can tug his bottom lip beneath her teeth. Press, press, push- lips against lips against tongue against teeth, and he’s sliding his hand down beneath the corner of the sheet and stroking her inner thighs, still sticky from earlier.   
  
And that’s how they end up officially dating, words exchanged on heavy breaths while he kisses his way down her back and rocks his hips up slow, steady, while he slides his hands across her front and she grasps them tight, twining their fingers and pressing her palms flat to the bed so that his chest presses against her back and he has to bury his face in her neck and bite hard enough to bruise while she whimpers into the mussed sheets.

He leaves cheeto-dust prints on her hips and she leaves them on his cheeks and his fingers are calloused in exactly the right way to brush across her thighs until she drags them down to press against her clit.


	6. Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is planning something, and then Dick is planning something- and then, once the photographer leaves, Tim is dragged into it all.

Dick knows that as soon as the photographer waves them the all-okay to move and hurries off, babbling at his assistants about deadlines and uploads and formats, Jason’s going to use the hand hooked around his knee to send him tumbling down onto the dais. The smoke from Jason’s cigarette is thick in his nose, and he can see the smirk spreading across Jason’s face, one eyebrow crooked and glorious thighs on display for the camera.

Tim’s clearly out of the loop (how could he be  _in_  it, when he’s looking the other way?), but Dick’s hand is slowly curling around the crook of Tim’s knee- he won’t be escaping whatever Jason has planned. Tim’s hand presses at his shoulder during the small break between lenses-

“What are you doing, Dick?” Tim hisses out the side of his mouth, keeping his expression the same even as his eyes dart up towards the older model. 

“Nothing at all, Timmy,” Dick murmurs back, voice tinged with a grin despite his serious face. “Nothing at all.”

It’s only after Tim has finally extricated him from the combined embrace of Jason and Dick, hours later, (sticky and sweaty and generally rather more disheveled than when the photographer left the room) and is pressing the sore spots from the hard dais from his spine, that he rolls his eyes and wryly says, “ _That_  was nothing at all?”


End file.
